


A Better Place to Be

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: M/M, Past Child Abuse, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Cochise and Tom are in the same plane at the end of 3x04, like Tom had wanted.  They make the walk back to Charleston together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Place to Be

            “The plane is going to go down,” the pilot yells.  “We’re gonna crash!  I’m trying to control it, but we’re going down.”

            Tom looks over at Cochise’s impassive face.  “We haven’t known each other for that long, but if you make it and I don’t, you have to look out for my boys.  You have to.”  The Volm seem sturdier than humans, so he has a shot, and the three of them deserve all the help they can get.  “Tell them I love them, okay?  At least do that.”

            Cochise undoes his own safety strap and gets out of his seat and Tom’s eyes widen.

            “Cochise!  Strap back in!” Tom yells. 

            “We will both survive this, Tom Mason,” Cochise says steadily.  He positions himself in front of Tom, pinning him even more securely into his seat. 

            Tom looks up at him, trying to push Cochise off as the plane starts shaking in a very scary way.  “You’ve gotta strap in!  We’re gonna crash.  The straps keep you safe.”

            “I understand the purpose of the straps,” Cochise says, “but they will not adequately protect you.  I will attempt to.”

            Cochise is looking at him seriously, with surety, so Tom nods a little. 

            “Okay, I trust you,” Tom says, holding onto Cochise’s shoulders because he has no idea what to do with his hands. 

            The whole plane shakes and shakes, and Tom’s head hits the back of his seat painfully hard.  He’s impressed by how calm and composed Cochise is even as they fall.

            There’s a quick moment of calmness and Tom leans forward on instinct to press his lips to Cochise’s cheek.  “For luck,” Tom assures him, but it’s also because he’s had a weird feeling around Cochise for a while and if he’s going to die, he should at least get to feel what Cochise’s skin feels like under his lips, right? 

            “Thank you for your luck,” Cochise says. 

            Tom smiles reassuringly even as the whole plane starts shaking again.  They plummet lower and lower, leaning to one side, and Tom is pretty sure that he can hear trees to scrape against the side of the plane. 

            Everything turns upside down and Tom grabs onto Cochise to keep him from flying away too because it feels like there’s more air rushing around them than there should be so Tom is pretty sure that part of the plane is gone and Cochise is not gonna be gone too, not if Tom can help it.  Somehow, Cochise is still mainly in place, and Tom glances down to see that he’s hooked his feet under Tom’s seat.

            There’s too many sounds to catalogue and then something smashes into Tom’s head and there’s only darkness.

            The next thing that Tom feels is movement.  He’s moving, somehow.  Floating.  Which is good because his head is in so much pain. 

            Tom groans and suddenly he’s on something hard.

            “Tom Mason!” It’s Cochise.  “Are you okay?”

            His eyes open and Tom is staring into Cochise’s worried face. 

            “Cochise,” Tom manages to say.  His head hurts so much.  “What happened?”

            “The plane crashed and I protected you from the majority of the impact.  However, a piece of debris hit your head and you lost consciousness.  As you were still alive, I pulled you from the wreckage.  I bandaged your head wound as I have seen Doctor Glass do,” Cochise says.  “I have begun walking back to Charleston, as I believed that is where we should go.  The Espheni are in pursuit.”

            “What about the pilot?” Tom asks.

            “He was already dead,” Cochise says. 

            “And the other plane?” Tom asks.

            “I am uncertain of anyone else’s fate,” Cochise says.

            “Thank you,” Tom says, “for saving my life.  For getting me out of that plane.”

            “I will preserve your life,” Cochise says.  He hands Tom a canteen.  “Drink.”

            “What about you?” Tom asks after taking a small sip.  “Are you okay?”

            “Volm are genetically adapted to withstand a great amount of stress,” Cochise says. 

            “Are you okay?” Tom asks again.

            Cochise slides his arms under his knees and back and lifts him back up slowly.  “I am worried about the injuries you sustained in the crash.  I do not know enough about human physiology to know if they are severe.  I will return you to Charleston as quickly as possible.”

            The change in altitude makes Tom’s stomach feel sick.  He closes his eyes.  “I think I have a concussion.”

            “Is that serious?” Cochise asks.

            “It varies,” Tom says.  “It screws with your brain.”

            “Your brain?” Cochise asks, voice full of concern.  “Is it permanently damaged?”

            “Hopefully not,” Tom says, forcing his eyes open.  “I wish I had paid attention to some first aid classes.” 

            “Do you know anything that I can do to aid you?” Cochise asks.

            “I need to stay awake.  I need to know if my brain is still working right,” Tom says.

            “How?” Cochise asks.

            “Oh god, I’ve seen this on TV.  You’d usually ask questions like ‘who is the president?’ or really anything that’s common knowledge,” Tom says. 

            “Who is the president?” Cochise asks, tilting his head at him. 

            Tom snorts.  “Benjamin Hathaway.”

            “That is incorrect,” Cochise says.  “You are the president.  I am concerned that you would forget this.”

            Tom laughs weakly.  “Not anymore.  Not if Hathaway is still alive.”

            “I will still consider you the president,” Cochise says.

            “That was always such a joke,” Tom says.  It’s freeing being away from Charleston.  It feels like he’s going to die before he gets back, so he can say anything.  “Me being President, I mean.  I swear, it was only because no one else wanted to deal with you.  Nobody wanted to deal with a whole new set of aliens except me.”

            “If that is sound analysis, then I am glad for our interference,” Cochise says.  “You have led your people admirably, and I have enjoyed our time working together.  I believe that we will be successful in retaking this planet.”

            Tom smiles up at Cochise, enjoying the feeling of being held so securely while also having his ego stroked.  “I’ve liked working with you, too.  But I’m not cut out to be a leader long term.  I’m a history professor and a father and a husband, not a president.”  At least he’s still one of those.

            “Nevertheless, you have carried your people well, while maintaining your unique humanity.  I have been stationed on many worlds and I have never met a species like yours,” Cochise says. 

            “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Tom asks, looking up at him. 

            “You are disturbing,” Cochise says, “and most confusing.”

            Tom rests his head against Cochise’s shoulder.  “So, bad.  I’m not surprised.  Our people are pretty different.”

            “I did not mean that,” Cochise says.

            Tom snorts and feels his eyes slide shut.  He’s so tired.  Things have been so hard recently.  He just wants to be asleep in Cochise’s arms.  This is nice.

            Cochise continues walking, but pauses.  “Tom!  Are you sleeping?”

            Tom’s eyes open and Cochise keeps walking.  “Nope, not at all.”

            “You informed me that you must remain awake.  Please do so,” Cochise says.  “It is important you remain alive, Tom.”

            “You called me Tom!” Tom says.  “You called me Tom, not Professor or Tom Mason.”

            Cochise makes a strained noise.  “I apologize for my error, Professor Mason.”

            “No, I didn’t mean that,” Tom says, grinning up at him.  “Just Tom is good.  It’s friendly.  It’s familiar.”

            “Are you certain that it is appropriate?” Cochise asks.

            “At least when it’s just us, wandering through the woods,” Tom says.  His head hurts so much.  “I like you, Cochise.  Not just as a foreign dignitary or whatever.  But as a person, too.”

            Cochise goes silent for a while, which worries Tom.  The Volm don’t do feelings, from what Tom has learned, and he just admitted he has some for Cochise.  He didn’t even admit all of the feelings he maybe has for Cochise, which is apparently a very good thing.

            Even with the too still silence, Tom enjoys being carried by Cochise.  His arms are comfortable, and there’s always been something about him that’s more comforting than it probably should be.

            He sips his water in the silence, disappointed when he hits the bottom.

            “I enjoy you as well,” Cochise says ages later.  “I find you smart, brave, and interesting as well as disturbing.”

            Tom snuggles a little closer because why not?  “Glad I have a few good qualities.”

            “I am glad that we landed near your settlement,” Cochise says.

            “Me, too,” Tom says.

            It starts getting dark and cold.  Tom watches Cochise’s face and it doesn’t change, doesn’t show any signs of changing even as Tom starts to get hungry on top of his dizziness. 

            “Do you need to, like, rest?  You’ve been going for hours,” Tom says.  “I could probably walk for a while.”

            “I am fine,” Cochise says.  “I do not require rest.”

            Of course not.  “Food?  Do you need that?”

            Cochise breathes hard.  “I have forgotten you require extensive sustenance to survive.  I do not believe I have anything appropriate.” 

            “I’m okay,” Tom says.  “I can go a few days without food easily, as long as I have some water.”

            “It is not healthy for you,” Cochise says.  “Paired with an injury, it could lead to your death.  I know that much about human physiology.”

            “I don’t feel like I’m about to die, don’t worry,” Tom says.  Not yet.  “And even if I do, it won’t be your fault.”

            “Do not discuss such things,” Cochise says.  “You are going to survive.”

            “I don’t want you to feel bad if I don’t,” Tom says.  “Okay?  I probably wouldn’t have even survived the crash without your help.”

            Cochise keeps looking right ahead. 

            “What’s wrong?” Tom asks after a while. 

            “I am fine,” Cochise says stiffly.

            “We’ve spent months crammed in tiny little rooms together and I’ve paid attention to you,” Tom says.  “I know when you’re not okay by now.”

            “You are quite perceptive,” Cochise says. 

            “So, tell me what’s wrong,” Tom says. 

            “I should have prevented your head injury,” Cochise says.  “Your head is important.”

            Tom laughs.  “You saved my life, probably.  I just got hit in the head.  I’ve been hit in the head a lot in my life, and my brain still works alright.”

            “Why have you sustained so many head injuries?” Cochise asks.

            Tom squirms a little uncomfortably.  “Very clumsy.”

            “You are lying.  You are not the only perceptive one,” Cochise says, “but you are also clearly uncomfortable with this topic of conversation.”

            “I am,” Tom says. 

            “Then we will not talk of this anymore,” Cochise says.

            “We need to talk about making a fire anyway,” Tom says.

            “I do not require a fire,” Cochise says.

            “It’s going to get really cold tonight, and I’m going to need a heat source.  A fire.  Or else I’m going to lose body parts.  Body parts that I’m really fond of having, like my fingers,” Tom says, wiggling aforementioned body parts. 

            “Are you certain?” Cochise asks.

            “Yeah, I am,” Tom says.  “It’s been cold recently, and this jacket isn’t enough to keep me warm enough.  Besides, you really should rest.”

            “I do not require rest, but you do require fingers,” Cochise says.  “Inform me when you notice a suitable location.”

            “If we could find a stream, that would be great,” Tom says.  “I need to fill the canteen.  I need water.”

            Cochise pauses.  “I believe I hear running water a mile away.”

            “You can really hear it that far away?” Tom asks. 

            “Volm have developed excellent hearing over the centuries.  It allows us to detect attacks more efficiently,” Cochise says. 

            “Very smart of you guys,” Tom says.

            It’s not too long before Tom can hear the water, too.  He leans his head against Cochise’s shoulder contently.  The sound of water has always been soothing, except when it makes him have to pee.  Even then, it’s still a good sound.

            When they reach the stream, Cochise stands there with him for a minute. 

            “You can set me down now,” Tom says.  “On my feet, please.”

            Cochise nods.  “Of course.”

            Tom’s unsteady on his feet at first, but Cochise is there to steady him, one hand on his waist and the other on his shoulder.  His body feels sore and his head is pounding, but otherwise, he feels okay. 

            “You didn’t bring a lighter, did you?” Tom asks.

            “I had a weapon, which could have ignited a fire, but it was lost in the crash,” Cochise says.  “Is this going to prevent you from creating a fire?”

            “You guys don’t learn basic survival skills?” Tom asks as he starts gathering up kindling materials. 

            “Fire is not necessary for our survival, and what works on this planet may not be applicable to the next planet,” Cochise says. 

            Tom hums.  “Interesting.  Could you refill my canteen while I get the fire going?”

            “Of course,” Cochise says, reaching his hand out for the canteen.

“Just make sure that it’s not from a still part of the stream,” Tom says as he hands him the canteen.  “That water is dirty.”

Cochise nods and reaches down towards his pants.  Tom’s confused until Cochise starts pushing his pants down, and then Tom is extra confused.

“Woah, why are you taking your pants off?” Tom asks, looking down at his pile of kindling. 

“The water is moving quickly in the middle of the stream, and I do not want my clothes to become wet,” Cochise says.  “Is something wrong?”

“Nope,” Tom says, “nope.”

“I will return with your water shortly,” Cochise says.

Tom just gulps and nods, peeking up when he hears the splashing.  It’s okay if Cochise took his pants off knowing he was there, right?  His eyes slide from muscular calves to toned thighs to a shockingly shapely ass and Tom’s eyes are reluctantly sliding higher to the clothed parts of Cochise’s body when he realizes that Cochise has at least one piece of shrapnel in his back.

“Cochise!” Tom yells, trying to keep his eyes on Cochise’s face as he turns around.

“What is wrong?” Cochise asks.

“You have shrapnel in your back!  Come here!” Tom says.

“I am aware,” Cochise says.  “Let me obtain your water.”

Tom watches wide eyed as Cochise turns back around and bends over to collect the water.  He’s definitely not looking at Cochise’s butt again.  This is a really inappropriate time to be looking at Cochise’s butt.  Okay, yeah, he’s looking at Cochise’s butt but only because he’s making sure nothing is wrong with it.

Cochise finishes scooping up the water and Tom’s eyes flash back to his pile of kindling so Cochise doesn’t realize he’s being a pervert.

Two legs appear in the periphery of Tom’s vison, and Cochise sets the canteen down.

“You should drink,” Cochise says.  “You ran out of water early in our walk.”

Tom shakes his head and looks back up at Cochise’s face.  “I need to look at your injury.  I need to see how bad it is.  God, Cochise, you’ve been walking with me in your arms for hours.  You should have made me walk.”

“I am fine,” Cochise says.

Tom reaches for Cochise’s hand and tugs him down.  “You have shrapnel in your back.”

Cochise shrugs his shirt off, leaving him completely nude, and that’s how Tom ended up lost in the forest with a naked Cochise.  If he ever got naked with Cochise, this is not how he wanted to do it. 

Tom runs his fingers along Cochise’s back.  He knows he’s supposed to be examining Cochise’s injury, but there could be other injuries so Tom’s looking for them.  Or something. 

Cochise’s back is interesting, with many V-shaped ridges running down the center of it, like an exoskeleton.  His skin has so many dips and ridges in it that Tom can’t resist running his fingers over them.  There are a few slashes that disrupt the organic flow, but Tom skirts around those. 

After a few minutes, Cochise turns his head.  “Are you satisfied with the wound?”

Tom is startled out of his revere.  “Uh, I was just checking for other injuries.”

“I do not have any other major injuries,” Cochise says.

Tom’s fingers skirt a little closer to the injury.  “You know Volm first aid, right?  Some way I can help you?”

“You can pull it out or leave it in,” Cochise says.  “My body will heal around it, eventually pushing it out.”

“So it’s totally fine for you to have a big hunk of metal in your back?” Tom asks.

“For a period of time.  My body will heal faster without the metal, but it will bleed and you may find that alarming,” Cochise says. 

            “What do you want me to do?” Tom says.

            “It is uncomfortable, so if you do not mind removing it, I would prefer that.  But if you do not want to do such a thing, I would understand,” Cochise says. 

            Tom brushes his thumb right near the wound.  “Is it going to hurt?”

            “Yes,” Cochise says.

            Tom winces a little.  “Well, if you hadn’t been there, this hunk of metal would probably be in my chest and I’d be dead, so I guess the least I can do is pull it out.”

            “I am glad it is in my back instead of in your chest,” Cochise says.

            Tom scoots a little closer to Cochise.  “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

            “Pull as straight out as possible, in order to reduce potential additional trauma,” Cochise advises.  “But do not worry too much about doing me additional harm.  I will recover so long as you do not push it further in.”

            Tom grasps the metal.  “I’m going to do it.  Take it out, I mean.”  He tries to keep his voice steady, reassuring. 

            “I trust you, Tom,” Cochise says. 

            Tom pulls it out in one quick stroke, trying to ignore Cochise’s groan of pain and how a dark red liquid starts oozing out of his back.  He rests his hand on Cochise’s shoulder.  “Are you okay?”

            Cochise turns to look at him.  “Thank you.  I can feel the healing beginning.”

            Tom looks around for something to bandage him with- which he probably should have done earlier.

            Cochise starts to get up, but Tom pushes down on him.

            “Hey, you’re not going anywhere,” Tom says.  “You carried me for god knows how far today, after we were in a plane crash, and now you’re bleeding.  Rest.”

            “I do not require rest, Tom,” Cochise says.

            “Then do it for me,” Tom says quickly.  “I can’t make a fire if I’m worrying about you.”

            “I will remain here.  For you, Tom,” Cochise says, clearly disgruntled. 

            Tom struggles to get to his feet, but he manages it.  He goes back to looking for something to help stem Cochise’s bleeding when he sees the moss. 

            He rinses it off in the river to get the dirt or whatever off.  That’s what you’re supposed to do, Tom is pretty sure.

            “I’m going to put this on your back, okay?  It should help with the bleeding,” Tom says. 

            Cochise nods and Tom presses the moss against the wound. 

            “You need to start your fire,” Cochise says, sliding his hand over Tom’s.  “I will hold it.”

            Tom nods a little, flexing his fingers under Cochise’s before sliding his hand reluctantly away.  He rinses Cochise’s blood off his hands quickly, trying not to think about it. 

            Once his hands are clean, Tom goes back to starting the fire.  He finds a good piece of wood to serve as the base, a rock to carve out a notch with, and a stick to serve as the spindle.  Before starting anything, Tom makes sure that he has enough smaller sticks and kindling. 

            The whole time, Tom can feel Cochise’s eyes on him.  It makes him feel like he’s a fluttering undergrad again, especially considering that Cochise is still completely naked.  He hopes that Cochise doesn’t know what the bright red color on his face means.

            “You will be able to create a fire with those materials?” Cochise asks.

            “Yeah, it all seems pretty dry, so it should be easy,” Tom says.

            “When did you learn these skills?” Cochise asks.  “They do not appear to have anything to do with your previous profession as a professor of history.”

            Tom places the spindle in the base and spins it back and forth between his hands, hard.  “When I was a kid, I wanted to run away from home.  I wanted to go live in the woods.  I read a bunch of books.  I’ve forgotten most of it, but some of it stuck.”  He stares hard at the spindle, waiting for the spark.

            “Why did you wish to run away?” Cochise asks.

            Tom clears his throat.  “My dad.”

            “You are uncomfortable again,” Cochise says.

            “It’s okay,” Tom says, still staring hard at the spindle.  “You just can’t talk to anyone else about this.”

            “I will keep your confidence,” Cochise says. 

            “My dad was an angry man who liked to drink.  After drinking, he liked to beat me.  Especially after my mom died and it was just the two of us,” Tom says, trying to sound as matter of fact as possible.  The friction starts to heat up his hands.  “It’s why I know so much about head injuries, too.  I used to have fix myself up all the time.”

            There’s silence and Tom chances a glance up at Cochise’s face.  It’s hard and unreadable, so Tom goes back to his fire.  His attempts at fire.

            “So I figured that it would be better to live in the woods by myself than with my dad,” Tom says because he hates the silence that has settled between him and this naked alien- honestly Tom feels like the naked one.  “I did end up trying to run away, but the police found a little boy wandering by the side of the road suspicious, so they took me back home, and, well, I never did anything that brought the police to our door again.  It was one of the few times he actually took me to the hospital, afterwards.  So nice of him.”  He laughs at his own unfunny joke.

            Cochise leans forward and rests his hand on Tom’s arm.  “Do you know where your father is now?”

            “I haven’t seen him since Hal turned one.  He came by the house and I flipped.  I threw him out of the house.  Told him that if he ever came near Rebecca or my kid again, I would dump him in the river and no one would ever find him,” Tom says, shaking a little.  That had been one of the scariest days of his life.  The thought of his dad getting his hands on Rebecca or Hal or Ben or Matt- or even looking at them- makes him feel sick.  “Hopefully, the Espheni killed him- then they would have done something good.  I told the boys he died when me and Rebecca were in college.” 

            “I am sorry you had to endure that,” Cochise says. 

            “It’s okay,” Tom says, grinning as he sees the spark.  “That was a long time ago.”

            He transfers the spark to the pile of kindling, bends down, and blows gently.  It catches, and Tom smiles up at Cochise, blushing again as he catches sight of Cochise’s genitalia.  That is not what he expected to be down there.  It’s particularly embarrassing because he’s right at eye level with it. 

            Like, he could crawl right over and-

            “You did it,” Cochise sounds full of awe. 

            “Oh yeah,” Tom says, starting to add little sticks.  “Ugh, I just wish that we had something to cook on it.”

            “There were creatures in the water,” Cochise says.  “Are they edible?”

            “Fish?” Tom asks.  “Yeah, they are.  Although, I have no idea how to catch them or get them ready to cook, especially since we don’t have a knife.”

            “We do have a large piece of metal, and I will personally attest to the fact that it is sharp,” Cochise says.

            Tom pales a little.  “You want to use that?”

            “There is no reason not to.  We can clean it,” Cochise says.

            “So practical,” Tom says. 

            “Will you check my wound?” Cochise asks.  “If the bleeding has stopped, I will retrieve a fish.”

            Tom nods a little and gets up.  His fingers slide over Cochise’s again as he takes the moss.  He pulls it away.

            “It looks okay,” Tom says, “but I’m no Volm expert.”

            “Then I will get you a fish,” Cochise says.

            “You shouldn’t go back in the water,” Tom says.  “It’s starting to get cold, and you’ll get even colder if you go back in there and you stay naked.”

            “I will be fine,” Cochise says.  “Do not worry.”

            Tom warms his hands.  “Are you sure?”

            Cochise gets up and looks down at him reassuringly.  “You worry greatly.”

            “You are very worrying,” Tom retorts, looking up at him. 

            Cochise turns back into the stream and Tom watches as he just stands in the middle, naked and looking around.  Suddenly, he reaches into the water and when his hand reemerges, he’s holding a fish.

            Tom is slack jawed as Cochise walks back to shore.

            “How did you do that?” Tom asks as Cochise hands him a squirming fish. 

            “You observed what happened,” Cochise says. 

            Tom looks down at the slowly dying fish in his hand, frowning.  “Are we supposed to let it suffocate?  Or should we hit it with a rock?  Cooking it alive seems too cruel.” 

            Cochise rinses off the piece of metal and hands it to him.  “You can use this.”

            Tom nods and hacks its head off.  He has no idea if that’s better or worse than suffocating.

            Once the fish is dead, Tom lays it in some of the coals and sticks his hands in his armpits to keep his hands warm.  It’s starting to get cold enough that Tom can see his breath.

            “You are starting to get cold,” Cochise says.

            Tom nods.  “And I need to pee.  It’s not a fun night.”

            “I will observe your fish for you,” Cochise says. 

            Tom nods and gets up, hiding behind a tree so he can pee quickly.

            “I have a question about humans,” Cochise says when he comes back.

            “What?” Tom asks, checking on his fish.

            “Why did you pee on that tree?” Cochise asks.  “I have noticed that many humans pee on trees.  At first I believed it was some kind of marker, but there is no one to signal to out here.”

            Tom snorts.  “Modesty, mostly,” he says, “which I’m guessing that Volm aren’t big on.”

            “Have I made you uncomfortable?” Cochise asks.

            “I was just a little surprised when suddenly, you took your pants off like it was no big deal,” Tom says, “and then your shirt… but especially your pants.”

            “We live in communal areas our whole lives,” Cochise says, getting up and pulling his pants on.  “There is no need for modesty.  We do not generally strip in front of aliens, but I am comfortable around you.” 

            “That’s nice,” Tom says, pressing his lips together.  Laughing would be rude.  “A little weird, but nice.”

            “I have put my pants back on, but I believe you should take my shirt because you have begun to shake,” Cochise says. 

            “I’m okay,” Tom says.  “Just waiting for my fish to cook.”

            “You are cold, exhausted, and have sustained a head injury,” Cochise says.  “You should have more protection from the elements.”

            “At least I’m plenty hydrated,” Tom says, sipping at the water. 

            Cochise gets up and sets his shirt around Tom’s shoulders.  “You must remain warm as well.”

            “You guys don’t get cold at all?” Tom asks, pulling Cochise’s shirt around himself a little tighter.

            “It takes much colder temperatures than this area of Earth is capable of to do us serious physical damage,” Cochise says.  “It may be unpleasant, but it is endurable.”

            “You really should take your shirt, then,” Tom says.  “You shouldn’t be uncomfortable.”  And because Cochise is vaguely distracting, all muscles and flickering in the fire light. 

            “But it is not necessary to preserve my wellbeing,” Cochise says.  “And your fire creates sufficient heat.”

            “I’m glad I at least bring something to the table,” Tom says.  From what he can tell, the fish is done.  He waves it in Cochise’s general direction.  “Want some?”

            “You need all your strength,” Cochise says. 

            Tom snorts.  “I pulled a piece of metal out of your back after you walked for miles.  You could probably use a little strength, too.” 

            “I can consume many things,” Cochise says.  “I do not have to take your nutrients.”

“Just take some, please,” Tom pleads. 

Cochise tilts his head, but eventually reaches out to take part of the fish.  He puts it into his mouth.  “It is acceptable.  You are a passable cook.”

Tom peels off some of the scales so he can get to the meat.  He bites into it and scrunched his face up.  It's not terrible, but it's not worthy of compliment either.  “This isn't cooking, Cochise.  This is just a fish.”

“But you cooked it,” Cochise says. 

“You haven't ever had real cooking, have you?” Tom asks.  

“Volm consume nutrient packs in order to ensure that our bodies are healthy and strong,” Cochise says.  “We do not cook.”

Tom makes a face.  “That doesn't sound tasty.”

“That is not their purpose,” Cochise says.  “They ensure that we are capable warriors.”

“Still.  I think what a lot of people miss the most from before is the food.  And the not being in danger,” Tom adds.  “But food is still really high up on the list.”

“Neither of those are things that Volm are capable of missing, as they are not things that we have ever experienced,” Cochise says.  “Even when we are hatchlings, we know what is coming for us, what our lives will be.”

Tom presses his lips together.  “I'm sorry, my friend.”

Cochise’s face looks particularly alien in the flickering of the fire light.  “There is nothing to be sorry about.  That is the way it has been for generations, and it will continue for generations after I have died.”

Tom is about to say something totally insightful and soothing because for some reason it's very important to him that Cochise considers him someone he can talk to when he yawns widely instead. 

“I'm sorry.  I need to sleep.”

“You informed me that due to your head injury, you had to remain awake,” Cochise says.

Tom pulls Cochise’s shirt around him a little tighter as the wind starts to blow.  “I think I should be fine now.  You can wake me up every couple hours to check on me if it would make you feel better.” 

“And should I ask you questions to ascertain your mental state?” Cochise asks.

Tom smiles.  “Yeah, sure.”

Maybe it’s because he’s exhausted down to his bones, but Tom falls asleep right away, despite the cold and the throbbing in his head. 

Before he knows it, there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“Tom, who is the President?” A familiar, gentle voice asks.

Tom doesn’t remember quite where he is or who he’s with, so he has no idea why they’re asking him about the President.  But he’s always loved answering questions, loved knowing the right answer. 

“Benjamin Hathaway,” Tom mumbles.

“Incorrect,” the voice says.  “You are.”

Tom snorts and rolls towards the voice because he likes the voice.  Keeping his eyes shut, Tom buries his head in his friend’s lap before sliding back into unconsciousness. 

A voice wakes him up again, asks him something, but all Tom is cognizant of is how cold he is.  It’s so, so cold, and his head is in someone’s lap and there’s a fire crackling nearby, but that’s not enough.

“Please,” Tom says, ignoring the worried pleas of his friend.  He knows the voice belongs to a friend, a very close, special friend.  “It’s so cold.  I’m so cold.”

His friend moves out from underneath him, and Tom whines in protest.  That’s not what he wanted.

But then his friend lays down behind him, wrapping his arms around Tom.  He’s so warm that Tom turns so he’s facing him and buries his face into his friend’s warm, bare chest. 

A hand comes up and cups the back of Tom’s neck, covering the exposed skin, which Tom is grateful for.  Now he feels wonderfully warm.

“Thank you,” Tom manages to say before falling asleep again.

The next time Tom wakes up, he hears birds and can see sunlight filtering through his eyelids.  That’s not what has his attention, however. 

Even before opening his eyes, Tom can tell that his face is pressed up again a strong, very muscular chest and that someone’s arms are wrapped around him.  One hand is pressing against his neck and the other is rubbing circles in his lower back. 

There is, of course, only one person with him, and thus only one person that those arms and hands and muscles can belong to.  Unfortunately, that same person is also feeling some morning wood pressed firmly against his thigh, but Tom hopes that Cochise doesn’t know enough about human biology to know what that means.

Part of Tom wants to keep laying here, feeling fairly content in Cochise’s arms.  Ever since he and Anne had broken up, Tom’s felt lonely.  Really, that’s why he had Anne had gotten together and broken up in the first place.  They had both been lonely while mourning their dead spouses, seen parts of their dead loved ones in each other, and realized that that wasn’t a good reason to be together.  If they had carried on too much longer, they were both going to get hurt.  Breaking up had been good, but Tom still misses being in someone’s arms like this.

But Tom has responsibilities back in Charleston: his boys must be worried that he’s dead.  He doesn’t want them worried any longer than they have to be. 

With them in mind, Tom opens his eyes and tilts his head upwards.  He’s unsurprised to see Cochise’s big yellow eyes looking back down at him.  Of course Cochise wouldn’t sleep.

“How are you feeling?” Cochise asks, voice quiet.  “You became cold during the night, so I attempted to keep you warm.”

“You did a good job,” Tom says, acutely aware of the hand still rubbing circles into the small of his back and of the morning wood still jabbing into Cochise’s thigh.  “I still have all my fingers and toes.”

“I am glad,” Cochise says, breath tickling Tom’s face.  There’s a pause, and then Cochise starts to shift around him.  “We should begin walking.” 

“Are you going to let me walk today?” Tom asks, reluctantly starting to get up.

“It will be quicker if I carry you,” Cochise says. 

“Do you at least want your shirt back?” Tom asks. 

“You may keep it,” Cochise says.  “For later, when it becomes cold again.  We will still be in the woods for quite some time.”

“Are you okay?  Like, do you need anything?” Tom asks.  He readjusts his clothing so Cochise’s shirt is under his coat.  “Is your back okay?”

“My back is healing and the only thing I need is to return you, unharmed, to Charleston,” Cochise says.  “Do you want me to catch you another fish for your morning meal?”

“I’m not feeling hungry,” Tom says.  “If you give me a sec to pee and cover the fire with dirt, we can get going.”

Tom tries to get up, but the forest starts spinning around him, and he lands on his ass. 

“Are you alright?” Cochise asks, already on his feet.

“My head hurts and my balance is off,” Tom says.  There’s no point in lying to Cochise.  At least his boner is gone.  “That’s not a great sign.”

“Your brain is injured,” Cochise says.

“It might not be that,” Tom says, managing to stand up on his second attempt.  “There could be any number of things causing this, and it’s not too bad, yet.”

“Please urinate quickly,” Cochise urges.  “I wish to return you to your people as soon as possible so they may treat you.”

Tom smiles hopefully reassuringly as he goes to pee behind a tree.  He doesn’t want to worry Cochise too much.

When he comes back around the tree, he sees that Cochise has already taken care of the fire and that he’s bending over to fill up the canteen. 

Cochise hands him the canteen.  “Please ensure you stay hydrated.  That is one thing I can do for you.”

Tom tries not to squeal like a little kid as Cochise picks him back up again.  “You do a lot, Cochise.  You’ve already done a lot, and you keep doing more.”

“I hope it will be enough,” Cochise says, looking at him with sadness. 

“Hey, don’t give me that look!” Tom says.  “I’m not dead yet.”

“I am sorry, Tom,” Cochise says.  “I have found the last couple days to be hazardous, physically and emotionally.”

“Because of your meeting with President Hathaway?” Tom asks, cringing a little as they splash through the creek.  “Because you had to talk about your reasons for fighting?”

“I have observed your people.  If I informed them that the Volm fight because that is all we can do, because we will have no home until this war is won, they may fear that we wish to turn your home into the Volm home world.  And so I gave them my reason because I believed it would be more palatable to them,” Cochise says, voice rough.  “It is not something I enjoy discussing with distrustful strangers.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom says, “that you had to talk about it.  You probably made the right choice, though, if it helps.  Hathaway was always criticized for his rather aggressive, distrustful foreign policy before this began.  I’m sure the invasion didn’t help.”

“Knowing that it was a good choice does help,” Cochise says, staring straight ahead.  There’s a long silence, and Tom is willing to give Cochise what space he can under the circumstances, but Cochise eventually starts talking again without any prompting from Tom.  “My brother was a fearsome warrior, but he was also a caring Volm- too caring.  He could find the beauty in everything, and he sought out beauty, hence why he found an old poem in a repository and read it.  Hence why, when he decided it was the most beautiful poem he had read, he found the image file of the Catarius, and he showed them both to me.”

Tom rests his hand on Cochise’s chest, rubbing in a way that’s supposed to be comforting.  He wants Cochise to know that he’s with him without interrupting him.

“I can tell by the way your three offspring interact with each other that you have a very different family system than the Volm.  It is not encouraged for Volm to bond with their biological siblings, but rather with those they enter into battle with.  We must feel the loss of each comrade keenly, in order to ensure we do all we can to avoid more losses in the future.  But my brother knew that he could not share such a thing with his comrades, and so, when we were still small hatchlings in the nestships, he crept into my quarters to show me what he had discovered.  It was breathtakingly beautiful, the poetry and the image.  He showed me many such images and poems, but that first set is forever ingrained in me,” Cochise says, voice full of sorrow.  He sounds so deep in thought that Tom’s worried about breathing too loudly and disrupting him.

“My brother grew up to become a warrior to be feared, and slowly we fell into a more traditionally Volm relationship- one where we did not have as much contact.  I tried, desperately, to regain the relationship we had because I have often found it difficult to bond appropriately with my comrades, but he was killed before I could do so,” Cochise says, voice cracking.  “I often angered him with my actions, and yet, the galaxy seems much emptier without my brother’s presence within it.”

Tom presses his hand to Cochise’s cheek, unable to come up with words to express his sorrow.  He hopes a gentle touch will make Cochise forget about how alone he feels, especially because Cochise doesn’t have to be so totally alone anymore. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Cochise says. 

Tom leans his head on Cochise’s shoulder as they lapse into silence.  Cochise has given him a lot to think about, and possibly more importantly, a lot to feel. 

He’s always been interested in how Volm society works, not just because their society could say a lot about what kind of allies they are, but out of sheer curiosity.  But Tom’s overwhelming focus while Cochise had been talking wasn’t on the society, but on Cochise himself.

His feelings of isolation, the loss of his brother, his wonder at the poetry and the picture- they all feel so raw to Tom.  And Tom wishes that he could reach out and soothe that rawness somehow.  He has no idea how to do that, but he wants to.

Looking at Cochise, Tom would never know how much turmoil he feels, and this is after knowing him for almost a year.  They work closely together almost every day, and Tom had no idea about all these _things_ that had happened in Cochise’s life. 

Then again, Tom’s been with the 2nd Mass for far longer than he’s known Cochise and none of them know about his dad.  Not even his kids. 

But Tom is glad that he knows at least some of what’s happened to Cochise, and Tom is glad that Cochise knows at least some of what’s happened to him. 

Maybe it’s time that Tom faces what he’s probably known for a long time.  There’s something between him and Cochise.  Or, at least, he feels something for Cochise that he hasn’t felt since Rebecca died.  A deep connection to someone else on a real, personal level that doesn’t come out of grief or loneliness.

It’s terrifying to feel these things again, especially because he has no idea if Cochise is even capable of returning his feelings.  For all he knows, the Volm don’t feel romantic love, and even if they do, that doesn’t guarantee that Cochise will feel anything except friendship for him. 

Honestly, Cochise is a great friend to have, and Tom is lucky that he came to Earth. 

Tom sighs and lets his eyes slide shut, content in Cochise’s arms.  It’s not the comfiest ride he’s ever taken, but Cochise is strong and a comforting presence, which more than makes up for it. 

Cochise doesn’t talk until the sun has started to set; he doesn’t even talk when Tom asks for a pee break.  “I am sorry, Professor.”

Tom’s eyes open and he frowns at Cochise.  “Sorry for what?  And are we back to Professor?”

“By discussing my brother, I have sobered the mood,” Cochise says, “and thus I believed returning to a more formal manner of address was appropriate.”

“Cochise, no,” Tom says, reaching up to touch his face again.  “I didn’t want to say anything because I can’t understand- I never had a brother.  But I know that the worst thing that could happen to Hal, Ben, or Matt is losing each other.  I don’t want to intrude on your loss.”

“You are certain that I have not made you uncomfortable?” Cochise asks.

“I’m sure,” Tom says.  “You can talk to me about anything that you feel comfortable about talking to me about.  I hope that you don’t feel alone here, though.  It sounds like you’ve felt alone, and I really hope that you don’t feel as alone here.”

“You have been a friend unlike any I have ever known,” Cochise says.  “I am glad that we have been able to meet and know each other.”

To know that Cochise shares at least some of his feelings makes a warm feeling sweep over him.  It’s okay if Cochise doesn’t have romantic feelings for him, as long as he’s Tom’s friend.

“I’m glad that the Volm came to Earth, too,” Tom says.  “Not just because I honestly believe that the Volm want to help us, but because of you, Cochise.  I like having you around.”

Cochise looks down at him and smiles, and Tom wonders what Cochise would do if he leaned up and kissed him. 

“I enjoy your presence as well,” Cochise says.  “Unfortunately, I do not believe that we will be able to rest near a stream tonight.  I do not hear running water anywhere nearby.”

“It’s okay,” Tom says.

“Are you certain?” Cochise says.

“I’m going to get dizzier and my balance is going to go to shit,” Tom says.  “Especially if we don’t have any food.”

“Perhaps if I keep walking, we will encounter a source of water soon,” Cochise says.  “There is still time before it will become cold.”

Tom looks at the sun’s position.  It’s okay for now.  “Maybe.”

Cochise’s face is stony as he keeps walking on for another hour. 

“Do you hear anything?” Tom asks. 

“I do not,” Cochise says, sounding frustrated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom says, smiling up at him.  “We’ll have a fire, and you’ll help keep me warm tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll find water.”

“I can attempt to capture another animal for your consumption,” Cochise says. 

“Nah,” Tom says.  “I just want to get warm.”

“If you are certain that is the right course of action,” Cochise says.

Tom nods a little.  “I am.”  He doesn’t want to stress Cochise out any more than he already is.

“Then we will rest here for this night,” Cochise says, setting him down gently on his back.

Tom starts to get up, but Cochise grabs his arms gently.

“Sit,” Cochise instructs.  “I observed your technique yesterday, and I believe I can make the fire.  You need to rest.”

Tom laughs.  “I’ve done absolutely nothing all day except sit in your comfortable arms.  And you’ve barely eaten this whole time.”

“Your body is more frail than my own.  I consumed some tree leaves while you rested last night.  They were not as beneficial to my body as a nutrient pack, but they were still helpful,” Cochise says.  “Please, do not worry about my wellbeing.”

“If you die, I’m never making it back to Charleston,” Tom says, watching as Cochise starts gathering kindling.  “I’m going to stay concerned about you.”

“That is kind of you,” Cochise says.

“That’s part of being friends,” Tom says.

Cochise rubs and rubs the spindle, but he can’t quite get a spark to catch.

“I can help,” Tom says.  He sits himself up.  “This is the part that’s not at all strenuous.”

Cochise hands him the spindle, hand resting on his back for support, and Tom quickly starts a fire. 

“Your skill is impressive,” Cochise says. 

“It’s nothing,” Tom says, stretching out in front of the fire.  He loves watching the flicker of the flames. 

“Do you want me to help keep you warm?” Cochise asks.  “I do not want you to become cold in the night.”

Tom wonders whether or not this is taking advantage of their situation as he nods, even though it isn’t that cold yet.  “Thank you.”

Cochise lays behind him and wraps his arms around him.  It’s nice, comfortable.  Except for the gnawing hunger, dizziness, and how uncomfortable not having a pillow is, it’s pretty nice.

Tom stares into the fire. 

“This reminds me of when we used to go camping,” Tom says.  He finds Cochise’s hand on his stomach and slips his hand under it, ostensibly for warmth, but also because it’s nice to feel the long fingers curled around his hand. 

“I am unfamiliar with that activity,” Cochise says. 

“We lived in the suburbs and spent so much time in the city, so Rebecca and I thought it would be good for the boys to get out into nature sometimes.  We’d take them out to the Berkshires and set up tents.  I loved cooking over the fire. All the eggs and bacon we could eat.”  The thought makes his stomach growl.

“It sounds like an enjoyable time,” Cochise says.

“Yeah, it was, and then we'd stargaze when it got dark, fire crackling just like this,” Tom says.  “Rebecca always loved laying under the stars.”

“From what I know of your mate, she was an impressive specimen,” Cochise says.  “I am sorry that you lost her.”

“Thank you,” Tom says.  “It's been hard without her.  She was such a good parent, and she would have loved Charleston so much.  It's such a shame she didn't get to see it.  She would be so proud of the boys, especially of the man that Hal’s become.”  Maybe Hal wouldn't have to be so much of a grown man if both of his parents were still alive.   

Cochise squeezes his hand tightly, and Tom lets go so he can turn away from the fire to bury his face in Cochise's chest.  He doesn't want to look into the fire anymore.  He doesn't want to think about how much he misses Rebecca anymore.

Cochise holds him the same way he did the night before, one hand shielding the back of his neck and the other rubbing circles into his back.

“I am sorry that you feel such pain,” Cochise says, curving his back just a little so his cheek rests against Tom’s head.  “I am confident that you will be cared for again, if that is your wish.  You are loving and kind.  I am certain that many humans desire to care for you as your mate.”

Tom breathes in deeply.  He certainly feels cared for in this moment.  “Have you ever… Never mind.”

“Taken a mate?” Cochise asks. 

Tom nods against Cochise's chest, feeling the leathery skin against his face. 

Cochise stills and Tom is initially worried that he's offended his friend.  After all, they've already covered a lot of emotionally wrought territory.

“The Volm do not generally take mates because of an emotional bond,” Cochise says.  “It is for reproductive purposes, so even if I had taken a mate, they would not be like you and your mate.”

“Ah,” Tom says, trying not to sound wildly disappointed.  He's not exactly looking to expand the family, even if he and Cochise could have kids together.  When this is all over, the three boys that he already has are going to need all of his care and attention to recover from what they've been through.  

Cochise adjusts his hold so Tom is pressed closer to him.  “Please, rest.” 

“Goodnight, Cochise,” Tom murmurs. 

“Goodnight, Tom,” Cochise says.   

Tom falls asleep quickly and dreams utterly confusing dreams of being held by Cochise back in Charleston. He dreams of stolen kisses in empty hallways, of handholding while walking along the shoreline, of family dinners with five seats at the table again.  Like it should be.

Waking up is an unpleasant experience.  His head is pounding and he feels sick to his stomach.  He's not going to last much longer without water.  It's funny—Rebecca always used to get on him about staying hydrated.

“It's not my fault,” Tom mumbles to himself.

“What is not your fault?” Cochise asks, turning him gently onto his back.

“Old argument with Rebecca,” Tom says, throat scratchy.  He forces open his eyes, relieved to see Cochise right there above him.  “Hey there.”

Cochise presses his hand against Tom’s cheek.  “Are you feeling alright?”

“I need water,” Tom says.  “I'm probably going to pass out soon.”

Cochise gets to his feet and scoops Tom up with incredible gentleness.  It still makes his head spin. 

“I will return you to your people, where there is plenty of liquid. You must fight,” Cochise says as he starts to walk.  “You must fight to survive.”

“I will,” Tom promises.  “But if I don’t make it, I want you to know that it’s okay.  Don’t feel guilty.  You’ve gotta try to keep an eye on Hal, Ben, and Matt, especially Matt.  He’s so young; he’s too young to lose both his parents.”  They’re all too young. 

“They will not lose you,” Cochise says.  “You must trust me.”

“I do,” Tom says, nodding against Cochise’s shoulder.  “You’re very trustworthy.”

“Then you must believe that I will return you safely,” Cochise says. 

“I’ve just learned to be prepared for the worst case,” Tom says, looking up at him.  “If I die, leave my body behind to make it easier for you to make it back to Charleston.”

“You must talk of something else,” Cochise says.  “I do not want to hear you talk about your hypothetical death.”

“Then what do you want to hear me talk about?” Tom asks.  He closes his eyes because the whole world is spinning. 

“Tell me more about your life before the invasion.  I am curious about your life,” Cochise says. 

“It was so good, Cochise,” Tom says.  “I loved my family, had my dream job.  I got to teach what I loved, and a lot of my students loved the material as much as I did.  Sometimes I’d even bring Ben along once he got a little older.  He was still younger than everyone else, but he loved it, sitting there in the front row of my lecture hall.  It was supposed to be a taste of where he’d be in a few years.”

“I am glad you had such an enjoyable life,” Cochise says.

“Yeah… and Ben wasn’t much for sports, but I taught Hal and Matt both how to play lacrosse and we’d shoot hoops every Saturday, me and Rebecca versus Hal and Matt while Ben kept stats,” Tom mumbles with a smile on his face.  “He liked keeping the stats.  Ben had a big book of them all that he kept in his bedroom.  Hal would lift Matt up so he could dunk and Matt was so thrilled.”

“I do not understand most of what you said, but it sounds as if you enjoyed it, as did your mate and offspring,” Cochise says.  “I am certain that after this war, you will have many more enjoyable experiences with your offspring.”

Tom nods, making the woods spin.  “I just hope it comes soon.  I hope it comes soon.”

“I will do anything that I can to expedite the process.  I wish to see you happy,” Cochise says. 

“You’ve been good at that,” Tom says.  “I mean, peace is better, but I like you a lot too.”

“You are most kind,” Cochise says. 

Tom wants to explain everything that he’s feeling, everything that Cochise has forced him to make him feel.  He’s not sure he has the words that Cochise would understand, but he wants to try. 

But there’s a big, sucking blackness and he has to fight against it, like Cochise said.  He can’t put words together when he’s fighting against unconsciousness.

He forces his eyes back open, so he’s staring up at Cochise.  If he keeps his eyes open, it’s gotta help keep him from blacking out, right?  He hopes so, as he stares up at Cochise’s familiar, now comforting face.  

* * *

 

Cochise feels the intensity of Tom’s gaze until suddenly, Tom’s body goes limp in his arms. 

“Tom,” Cochise says, attempting to keep the panic out of his voice.  “Tom, who is the president?”

Tom does not move.

Cochise is concerned by how rapidly his own heart has begun to beat.  He sets Tom down on the nearest empty patch of ground and kneels beside him.

“Tom, please,” Cochise pleads, shaking his shoulder a little.  “You must wake up.”

Tom does not move. 

Cochise presses his ear to Tom’s chest and hears breathing sounds.  That is a good sign.  That must be a good sign.

The smell of human urine comes from Tom’s lower midsection, and Cochise does not know what that means.

The only possible course of action is to scoop Tom back up and continue walking towards Charleston.  After the conversations they have had over the course of the past few days, it is unsettling to know that if Cochise said something, Tom would not reply. 

They have discussed matters that Cochise has not been able to discuss with anyone.  While Tom had admitted that he could not fully understand, merely being able to express his feelings had been deeply comforting. 

Plus, Tom’s touch had been enjoyable.  His hands are soft and surprisingly delicate.  Feeling them against his skin had made him feel not alone.  It is startling to find companionship with a member of an alien species, but he has.

There are no species like humans, and there are no humans like Tom Mason.

Every two hours, Cochise pauses and presses his ear to Tom’s chest.  His breathing sounds continue to be steady, so Cochise continues to hope that his health is acceptable.  If he can reach Charleston, Doctor Glass and her associates will be able to save him.

Cochise listens as hard as he can for the sound of running water- even if it takes them off course, Cochise believes it would be worth it for Tom’s wellbeing- but he does not hear anything. 

The concern he feels for Tom’s wellbeing is alarming to Cochise.  The Volm do not overly concern themselves with the wellbeings of the aliens they encounter. 

Tom’s safety is not of the utmost importance to the war effort on Earth, so that is not an excuse.  He is a charismatic leader who is more open to Volm help than many of his comrades, but the weapon does not require his assistance.  It is, in fact, nearing completion, and does not require either of them.

Cochise can almost hear his father’s voice imploring him to leave Tom behind.  The feeling only becomes more persistent when Cochise sets Tom down and begins gathering wood for the fire. 

Technically, it is a waste of their time.  Cochise could continue walking for the entirety of the night.  However, Tom has expressed concern about the ability of his extremities to survive the cold of the night.  Thus, they will spend this night as they have spent the last two nights, huddling for Tom’s warmth. 

It is lucky that the cold does not affect Cochise, as Tom is already wearing his shirt.  Tom is not capable of informing Cochise if he is cold tonight, so Cochise will have to keep watch for himself. 

Cochise’s fire making skills are still not as perfected as Tom’s, but he does manage to make a fire.  He lifts Tom and sets him slightly closer to the fire.

As it is not too cold yet, Cochise does not press Tom’s body against his.  It is somewhat uncomfortable for him- Cochise enjoys physical closeness with Tom in a way that he does not understand.  While he knows that Tom needs the physical closeness and the warmth Cochise’s body provides, Cochise’s enjoyment of their physical closeness makes him uncertain of the appropriateness of such close physical contact.  It is necessary, but Cochise wishes that Tom was awake to reassure him of his desire for this contact.

Tom’s face is pale and gaunt, especially in the flickering of the fire.  It makes him appear intensely alien.  The planes of his face are so smooth, and the paleness of his skin stands in stark contrast to the dark hair that covers his head and the bottom half of his face.  And so many parts just… stick out.  Those ears and that nose.  Alien features that should not be so comforting.

Cochise presses his hand against Tom’s face to ensure that he is not too cold and to feel the sensation of Tom’s facial hair against his skin.  It is an interesting phenomenon.  Tom’s hair has been brushing against his shoulder and chest all afternoon.  His hair is so alien and yet it has quickly become familiar. 

The air temperature decreases, and so Cochise rolls Tom on his side.  He pulls Tom close, protecting the back of his neck from the cold.  His other hand presses against Tom’s lower back in order to ensure he stays in place. 

Tom does not press himself closer to Cochise, as Tom has done in previous nights.  He does not shift or talk as is characteristic of his sleep patterns.  It feels somewhat lonely, which is an irrational notion as Tom has been unconscious every night.

“Goodnight, Tom,” Cochise says quietly. 

The night passes with inextricable slowness.  The only comfort it provides is that Tom’s chest continues to rise and fall and that his warm breath brushes against Cochise’s chest.  As long as Tom remains alive, it is a good night, no matter how long the night feels.

When the sun rises, Cochise pulls away from Tom somewhat reluctantly, takes care of the fire, and picks Tom up again. 

“We will find water today,” Cochise says. 

Cochise realizes that he is talking to an unconscious body, for the second time.  He may have a stronger attachment to Tom than he first realized.  This is a disturbing revelation. 

He wishes to care for Tom and to be able to continue this care even after they return to Charleston.  When he had told Tom that he believed that he would be able to find another mate, Cochise had been so confident because at least part of Cochise would take Tom as a mate.  It is concerning and altogether inappropriate for Cochise to consider. 

Cochise’s stream of thought is disrupted when he hears the sound of running water.  A wave of relief sweeps through him.  It is a mile away.  That is close enough.

Cochise increases his pace to ensure they reach the water as soon as possible. 

When Cochise sees the water, he sets Tom down and sprints the last three yards, splashing into the middle of the stream.  He fills Tom’s canteen up from the stream of moving water and sprints back to Tom. 

Kneeling beside Tom, Cochise elevates his head in his lap and opens his mouth.  Cochise is uncertain if what he is doing is medically sound, but he must attempt something.  So he tips the canteen into Tom’s mouth so a small stream comes out and drains into Tom’s mouth.

When Tom does not react, Cochise stops and observes him.  If it is helping, logically there should be some reaction.  Maybe.  Even if Cochise had extensive medical training, it would not cover how to help a dehydrated human. 

He has often observed humans pouring water on their own faces, so Cochise imitates them and pours some of the water on Tom’s face. 

“You must respond,” Cochise says desperately.  “You must respond to the water because I do not know how else to help you.”

Cochise pours a little more water on his face, just in case, and Tom begins to cough. 

“Tom!” Cochise nearly yells.  “Tom, you must drink.”

“Cochise,” Tom says, sounding distant.  “Hey.”

Cochise presses the canteen to Tom’s mouth, keeping his head elevated.  “Drink.”

Tom sips at the water and Cochise keeps tilting the canteen until Tom shakes his head. 

“If I drink too much, I’ll get sick,” Tom says.

“I will refill the water while you rest,” Cochise says.

“No,” Tom says, grabbing at his arm.  “Don’t leave me.”

“What if I place you closer to the stream?” Cochise asks.  “Would that be okay?”

Tom nods, so Cochise carries him to the bed of the stream. 

“I promise you, I will be as quick as possible,” Cochise says, touching his cheek. 

Tom nods and Cochise wades back into the stream.  He fills the canteen quickly before returning to Tom’s side. 

“Thirsty,” Tom says.

Cochise tips a little more water into his mouth.  “I will catch you a fish if you are hungry.”

“No time,” Tom says.  “There’s no time to make a fire and eat.  Maybe we’ll pass some fruit trees or something.  Humans can survive for weeks without food.”

“I will catch multiple fish and carry them.  Then, I will cook them for you tonight,” Cochise says.  Not taking fish with them from the first stream had been a massive mistake, one that Cochise does not intend on making again.  “It will not take much time.”

“Okay,” Tom says, nodding.  He points wearily towards a nearby tree.  “Prop me up against that so I can see you.  Please.”

Cochise helps him into position, holding the canteen so Tom can take another few sips.  His hands are shaky, not grabbing the canteen firmly.  In the light of day, his face seems even more pale.  It is concerning, but not as concerning as the way Tom’s eyes do not focus clearly on him. 

Even while catching the fish, Cochise monitors Tom.  He attempts to be as quick as possible, catching five fish of suitable size.  Hopefully, these will be sufficient to sustain Tom until they reach Charleston or another stream.

“I dreamed about you,” Tom says when Cochise returns to the shore.  “Such good things.”

“I am glad you enjoyed your rest,” Cochise says.  “Do you require more water?”

“I need you,” Tom says.  “Want you.”

Cochise strokes his face as he pours more water into Tom’s mouth.  “I am with you, Tom.” 

Tom’s head lolls and Cochise is worried that something is indeed wrong with Tom’s brain.  Maybe it is not totally dehydration, but a symptom from his head injury.

The fish have stopped thrashing, so Cochise fills up the canteen in preparation for leaving. 

“Are you certain you do not wish to remain here and eat now?” Cochise asks.

“Gotta move,” Tom says.  “Gotta get back to the boys.  I miss them.”

Cochise lays Tom out on the ground and places the fish on his stomach before lifting him up again.  “I am certain that they miss you as well.”

Tom smiles contentedly.  “They’re such good boys.”

“You should be proud,” Cochise says.

“We are,” Tom murmurs, eyes drooping.  “We’re both so proud.  Rebecca is so proud.”

Cochise wonders if Tom is becoming confused and believes that his mate is still alive.  “Drink more water.”  He cannot inform Tom of the truth. 

“My stomach hurts,” Tom says.  “No water.”

“Drink when you feel able, please,” Cochise says. 

Tom nods and presses his face against Cochise’s chest. 

“How are you feeling?” Cochise asks.

“So tired,” Tom mumbles.  “Everything hurts.  I have dead fish on my stomach.”

“I am sorry but that was the only way to transport them and you,” Cochise says.  “Do you know if I can do anything for your pain?”

“How’s your back?” Tom asks.  “I pulled metal out of it.”

“It is healed,” Cochise informs him.  It is close enough to healed and Cochise does not want to worry Tom.  Tom needs to concentrate on his own wellbeing. 

“I’m glad,” Tom says.  “I was scared for you.”

“Do not worry about me, Tom.  I am in excellent physical condition,” Cochise reassures him.  Although, if he does not have a rest cycle soon, Cochise’s physical condition will begin to deteriorate. 

“Yeah,” Tom says, resting a hand on his chest.  “You’re in good shape.”

They walk on without incident until Cochise hears footsteps approaching them. 

“Something is coming towards us,” Cochise whispers.

“Leave me here,” Tom whispers.  “You’ll be better able to avoid it without me.”

“Be quiet,” Cochise whispers.  “We will be okay.”

“Survive.  Save yourself.  Watch out for my boys,” Tom whispers. 

“You are a better parent than I could be,” Cochise whispers back, “so you must survive for them.”

Tom does not reply, so Cochise listens harder.  It does not sound like an Espheni agent- not enough legs. 

Suddenly, a large, four legged, hairy creature appears.  Cochise’s eyes widen as he has not seen this animal before.

“A bear,” Tom murmurs, laughing.  “We’re gonna be mauled by a bear.”

“What is a bear’s weak spot?” Cochise asks. 

“Throw the fish and then run,” Tom says.  “All of them, just in case.”

“Tom, you need them,” Cochise says.  “You require the nutrients.”

“You can’t try to fight a bear, Cochise.  You don’t have any weapons,” Tom says.  “Do it or leave me here to be bait instead.” 

Cochise wants to growl in frustration, but the bear is still looking at them and he does not want to encourage it.  Tom needs food.  Tom needs these fish.  But Cochise cannot fight this creature and ensure that he will be fit enough to continue to carry Tom.

“Okay,” Cochise says dully. 

He sets Tom on the ground and Tom closes his eyes, as if he is giving up and preparing for intense pain.  Does Tom truly believe that he would leave him behind?  That lack of trust is surprisingly painful. 

It does not matter in this moment, however.  In this moment, a large Earth mammal is considering whether or not it wishes to engage with them, and Cochise must take Tom’s food sources and throw them far away. 

Cochise does so regretfully and then scoops Tom back up.  He watches the bear with baited breath, hoping that the bear pursues the fish.

Tom’s arms wrap weakly around him.  He smiles at Cochise when he glances down.

The bear continues to look at them, but in a moment, it starts to walk in the direction of the fish.

“Walk slowly,” Tom breathes.

Cochise begins to walk slowly as Tom instructed.  He takes care to give the bear a wide berth, listening hard.  The bear is not pursuing them.

“Now run,” Tom says.  “So we’re not around when the bear is finished with the fish.”

“Are you certain?” Cochise asks.

“Oh yeah,” Tom says.

Cochise begins to run as instructed, trying to watch the ground and Tom’s face.  Tom’s eyes are screwed shut again, but his arms are still wrapped around Cochise, which must be a good sign.

Suddenly, his foot catches on something and Cochise is unable to compensate.  He falls to the ground, doing his best to ensure that he absorbs as much of the impact as possible. 

Despite his attempts, Tom cries out and when Cochise looks up, he is curled up on his side.

Cochise crawls to Tom’s side to see his face contorted in pain.

“What hurts?” Cochise asks, examining his face for signs of injury and only seeing his previous head wound.  It has begun to bleed again, so Cochise tears the bottom of one leg of his pants off in order to stop the bleeding.

“My arm and my chest,” Tom says, his eyes shut.  “I think I broke my arm.”

“I am going to examine you,” Cochise says.

“Okay,” Tom says.

Cochise pulls his coat off, trying to ignore how Tom keeps gasping in pain.  There are two more layers of clothing that Cochise has to help Tom remove.  It is clearly a painful process, but Tom does not complain.

“I definitely broke my arm,” Tom says, gritting his teeth.  “Well, my elbow.”

Cochise touches Tom’s chest, concerned that he can feel his bones through his skin.  He also makes note of the fact that Tom also has hair on his chest, which is interesting. 

“Press very gently across my chest,” Tom says.  “I have to know if I have a broken rib, too.  Very gently.”

Trying not to panic, Cochise presses gently on Tom’s chest, moving slowly down his body until he reaches Tom’s side.

“Good, good,” Tom says.  “It just hurts; I’m not screaming.  No broken ribs.  I’d be screaming if I had broken ribs.  I’ll just bruise.”  He sighs and stares up at the sky.  “I think I’m going to turn your shirt into a sling, if that’s okay.”

Cochise nods at him, hand resting on Tom’s sternum. 

“What’s wrong?” Tom asks, resting his other hand on top of Cochise’s.  “Did you get hurt in the fall, too?”

Cochise shakes his head- a human gesture he has picked up.

“Cochise, come on.  Say something,” Tom pleads, looking up at him.  His face is drawn and pale. 

“I must apologize.  I attempted to preserve your life and I have only injured you further,” Cochise says.

“I’m going to be okay,” Tom says.  “I’ve had broken bones before.”

“You are already in severe distress,” Cochise says.  “I have hurt you further.  My duty is to preserve your wellbeing and I have failed.”

“Come on, help me get dressed,” Tom says.  “You saved my life, and you keep saving it even after I tell you to leave me behind, so come on.  Give me a sip of water and help me get dressed.”

Cochise holds the canteen to Tom’s lips, cupping the back of his head as he drinks.

“I am sorry for this pain,” Cochise says as he helps Tom put his shirt on.

“Pain is okay.  Pain means you’re alive,” Tom says, voice breathless.  There is a rote nature to his speech that makes Cochise wonder if this is a mantra.  “I’m very alive right now.”

Cochise smiles at him despite the situation.  “You have retained your human humor.”

“Something like that,” Tom says. 

Once Tom’s shirt is on, it is time to fashion the sling.  He helps Tom sit up so he can wrap it around him more easily. 

“Is this acceptable?” Cochise asks.

“Tie it tighter,” Tom says.  “It’s gonna hurt, but it has to be tight so my arm doesn’t move too much when you carry me.”

“Okay,” Cochise says. 

He ties the sling tight, attempting to ignore Tom’s grunts of pain.  It hurts, to be the one causing Tom this pain, but at least it means that Tom is alive, as Tom said. 

Cochise has aided many comrades on the battlefield, seen many of them in intense pain, but it has never affected him like this. 

“That’s real good, Cochise,” Tom says.  “You’ve got a nice touch.”

“I suspect you are attempting to make me feel better,” Cochise says, forcing his voice to stay steady as he helps Tom put his coat on.

“Is it helping?” Tom asks.

“Somewhat,” Cochise says. 

“Good,” Tom says.

“How should I hold you from now on?” Cochise asks.  “Will it be more comfortable to have your injured arm on the inside or on the outside?”

“The inside will be more secure,” Tom says.

“Are you ready to continue?” Cochise asks.

“Oh yeah,” Tom says.  He sighs deeply.  “The adrenaline is wearing off, so I’m probably going to pass out again.  Don’t worry, it’s normal.”

“Drink some more water,” Cochise says.

“No, that won’t help.  It’s just a normal reaction, don’t worry,” Tom says.  “Now please pick me up because your arms are a much better place to pass out than the ground.”

Cochise does as instructed, holding Tom securely.

“Thanks,” Tom says, smiling at him even though he is clearly in pain.  “This is nice.”

“I believe you have become delirious,” Cochise says. 

“I like you.  I like this.  I don’t like the pain or the fear, but I like you,” Tom mumbles.

“Tom, I believe you are confused,” Cochise says, feeling strange.  He both does and does not want to hear what Tom is feeling. 

“You’re giving me an out,” Tom says, voice fading.  “You’re giving me an out.  I should take the out, but you’re so good.”

Tom’s body goes limp as his head falls backwards and his eyes slide shut.

Cochise inhales deeply, glad that Tom had warned him that this was about to occur.  He is still alarmed about this occurrence, but at least Tom expected it.

There are still several hours of daylight left, so Cochise continues to walk.  He checks on Tom’s breathing at regular intervals.  As long as the breathing continues, Cochise tries to avoid panic.  Panic is an enemy.

There is no water in earshot.  That is another enemy.

Cochise cannot believe that he had been so careless as to fall with Tom in his arms.  He cannot believe that he hurt Tom, even if it was accidental.  It is, in fact, worse because it was accidental.

If Cochise had purposefully hurt Tom, it would serve a larger purpose.  If Cochise had purposefully hurt Tom, it would be in order to serve the war against the Espheni.  The greater good is the only reason why Cochise would harm Tom. 

When his father arrives and informs the humans that they will be kept safe in captivity, that will hurt Tom.  That Cochise has not informed Tom that this will come to pass will hurt him because of the trust and relationship they have developed.  It will serve a greater purpose, however.

Tripping and falling serves no purpose.  No good comes from that. 

Cochise lays Tom on the ground as the sun begins to set again.  He strokes Tom’s facial hair and then begins to build the fire. 

It is not cold enough yet that Tom requires his body heat, so Cochise stretches out next to him.  He sets his hand on Tom’s chest in order to feel his heart beating.  The steady rhythm is comforting. 

“You are my closest friend,” Cochise murmurs softly.  “You must make a full recovery.”

Tom does not respond, which is expected. 

Cochise rolls Tom so that his injured side is on top in order to ensure his ribs and arm do not become further injured.  He is careful as he holds Tom for warmth again.  If he further injures Tom, it would be inexcusable. 

He strokes at the small hairs at the nape of Tom’s neck.  It keeps him occupied.  While most nights he has felt perfectly alert, his body is starting to tire.  The strain of carrying Tom and avoiding his own rest cycles has led to the breakdown of his internal systems.  The damage is not permanent, but it is unpleasant. 

Cochise needs to take a rest cycle, but it will leave both of them vulnerable, which is unacceptable.  Tom is not fit to keep watch.

And so, Cochise plays with the hair at the back of Tom’s neck, presses his cheek against the top of Tom’s head.  The sensation is alien enough to keep him stimulated.  It also reminds him why it is so vital that he remains without rest.  He must ensure Tom’s safety no matter the personal cost. 

Tom does not wake up in the night, nor the next day, nor when Cochise makes a fire the next night.  His face becomes more drawn and pale as time progresses, which only encourages Cochise to walk faster.  That will burn through his reserves of energy at a faster rate, especially with Tom’s added weight, but it will place Tom in the care of his physicians quicker. 

When Cochise finally sees familiar landmarks, he sets Tom down to check his breathing for the final time.  It is still steady, but softer than ever.

“It will only be a short time more,” Cochise whispers.  “You must hold on.”

It is a struggle to lift Tom up for the final time, but Cochise does so and begins the final walk to Charleston. 

“The President is in need of immediate assistance,” Cochise yells when he comes near the settlement in order to immediately identify the fact that he is not alone.  Humans are suspicious, many of them do not trust him, and the light has begun to fade.  It would not do for Tom to be murdered by his own people so close to safety.  “I have Tom Mason, but he requires medical assistance.”

The gate opens and Cochise walks through, struggling to maintain his balance.  One of the females rushes forward.  Cochise believes her name is Maggie.  She yells orders to those surrounding her and then approaches them.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Tom Mason is severely dehydrated, his ribs are bruised, and his elbow is broken.  He has not eaten in several days,” Cochise says, falling to his knees despite himself.  “His breathing has become quieter over the course of the last day.”

“What happened?” she repeats.

“The President requires immediate medical assistance,” Cochise says.  He sets Tom on the ground so he does not drop him and cause him further injury.  Now that the immediate danger has passed, his body is entering a rest cycle, even if Cochise would prefer that it wait until he returns to the Volm compound.  “You have made it, my friend.”

Cochise falls to the ground beside Tom, and the final image Cochise sees is of Tom’s face before his body shuts down completely.

* * *

 

Tom expects to be in pain when he wakes up, but he can barely feel anything.  Must be painkillers, must be strong. 

For the first time in recent memory when he opens his eyes, he isn’t looking into Cochise’s face or chest.  Too bad.  Cochise has a nice face and chest.

“How do you feel?”

Tom frowns and turns his head.  It’s Cochise, fully clothed.

“Are we dead?” Tom asks.  He always expected that Rebecca would greet him if he died.

“No, but it was quite close,” Cochise says.  “My body shut down shortly after we arrived in Charleston.  If it had happened a few hours earlier, it is unlikely anyone would have found us.”

Tom doesn’t understand most of what he said, but Tom doesn’t mind.  It’s good to hear his voice.  “Told you you should have left me behind.”

“You are here and you are alive, as I promised,” Cochise says.  “Your doctor has assured me you will make a full recovery.”

“Thank you for everything,” Tom says, reaching out with his good hand and touching Cochise’s face.  “If I had to crash land in a plane, I’m glad it was with you.  Especially since my other choice was Pope.” 

The President would have been pretty cool too, but probably less… meaningful.

“I also enjoyed our time together,” Cochise says, and Tom swears he leans into his touch.  “I am unsurprised to find you hold me in higher esteem than John Pope, but I am surprised you did not desire to fly with your president.”

Tom blushes red.  Busted.  “I thought we learned a lot about each other, and I liked what I learned about you.”

“As did I.  You are most extraordinary,” Cochise says.  He inhales deeply.  “I should inform your offspring that you have awakened.  They have been worried and spent much of their time near your bedside.  They would not sleep, except I promised to watch over you each night.”

“One thing first,” Tom says.  If this goes horribly wrong, he’ll blame it on the painkillers.  Yeah, there’s never going to be procreation like Cochise said, but Cochise has been so kind.  Cochise has been so complimentary that it has to mean something.  Plus, the Volm don’t seem to touch each other much, but Tom has hazy memories of Cochise stroking his face tenderly when there was no actual reason to.  It has to mean something.

“Do you require something?” Cochise asks.  “Is something wrong?”

“I really want to kiss you,” Tom says.

“For luck?” Cochise asks quietly.

It feels like eons ago when he gave Cochise a quick peck on the cheek for luck as their plane went down. 

Tom shakes his head, even though that makes the room spin.  “No.  Because I really like you, and learning more about you only made me like you more.” 

Cochise leans forward and presses his lips against Tom’s.  It’s surprising- Tom hadn’t expected Cochise to be so ready- but Tom kisses him back. 

Kissing Cochise isn’t like kissing anyone else for the obvious reasons.  There’s no nose to bump awkwardly against and not much in the way of lips to kiss, but it still works.  It still feels good.  It still makes him feel close to Cochise and makes his stomach twist in that delicious way.

Cochise rests his hand on Tom’s cheek, long fingers fiddling with his hair.  It tickles and Tom laughs into the kiss.  He feels floaty and god, so happy.  So happy to be here with Cochise.

“Was that acceptable?” Cochise murmurs after they pull apart.  “I have never done that before, especially not with a human.  I do wish to do so again, if you also enjoyed it.”

“You’re a natural talent,” Tom assures him.

“I will retrieve your offspring now,” Cochise says.

“Thank you,” Tom says, smiling at him. 

“I will return and visit you after your offspring leave,” Cochise says.  He runs his hand over Tom’s beard tenderly.

“I look forward to it,” Tom says. “I promise, I’ll take you somewhere nicer than a plane crash for our second date.”

“You must promise not to pass out next time,” Cochise says seriously.  “I enjoy you alive.  And conscious.”

Tom laughs and leans forward to kiss him again.  “I promise.”

Cochise gets up, pulling his hand away.  “Good.”

Tom bites his lip as he watches Cochise walk away.  His heart is pounding hard, but in a good way.  It feels so good to have this kind of connection with someone again, even if he has no idea how it could possibly work out. 

Maybe almost dying in a plane crash was pretty good.


End file.
